Not An Addict
by OokamiJudge
Summary: No matter what they thought he knew he could stop it he wanted.


Disclaimer: Don't own House jack not makin jack from this fic no suein. The lyrics belong to K's Choice and the song is 'Not An Addict' I don't own it either. For the most part it is going to be from House's POV.

**Breathe it in and breathe it out  
And pass it on, it's almost out  
We're so creative, so much more  
We're high above but on the floor**

It was just another long day. Another long day with another patent complaining about something and lying about something else. Above it all though it was another day full of pain and pills. They said he needed them, and he wouldn't say he didn't. He would deny when they said he couldn't stop he could. He just didn't need and want the pain and they took care of the pain. Some times he even managed enough to make it gone and not just lessened those were the times he almost felt like he could fly. Odd though it may seem he did think like that some times, you just had to see what was truly in his mind to know that. It wasn't just that alone that he took, no not for himself. He took it because less pain meant he could think more on other things. And /that/, that was what mattered. While he really didn't care about the patents he did care about getting them better. Which mean he needed to think, and to at times be creative.

**It's not a habit, it's cool, I feel alive  
If you don't have it you're on the other side**

No they didn't share this pain of his and they didn't understand the pain none of them did. Really how could they talk about the pills or the pain when they didn't know. Only Wilson did he give any credit despite what he said he knew that at the other man did somewhat see his pain. He could also tell it hurt him to see him take the pills but he wouldn't even have the pain for him. He had tried it for that while, but he wasn't doing that again not unless something else came up, not unless it stopped again.

**The deeper you stick it in your vein  
The deeper the thoughts, there's no more pain  
I'm in heaven, I'm a god  
I'm everywhere, I feel so hot**

That had been probably the best time of his life in truth. The first time without the pain, and the first time he hadn't needed the pills. No not just the first time he hadn't needed them. He had woken up to no pain and not only had he not needed them he hadn't taken them hadn't touched them even. Actually he had been nearly happy. He didn't know if anyone knew he was, well no Wilson again. Wilson always seemed to know things like that. He didn't know how but he did. That was probably why he was the only person who opinion that actually even mattered in the slightest to him and the only person he would truly call a friend.

**It's not a habit, it's cool, I feel alive  
If you don't have it you're on the other side  
I'm not an addict (maybe that's a lie)**

There was that look again. He knew that look was used to it even, but he knew it. He offered her a look right back and he shook his head.

"You need help House."

"Oh your right, I need to run out, be a boy scout, and stop taking my vicodin." He countered as he stuffed the bottle back into his pocket.

"Just get down to the clinic."

He ignored her for the most part, really he didn't care. If they couldn't understand or didn't care what ever the case why should he even pretend to care about what they had to say about him? Either way he needed to see about getting a refill later. To prove them wrong he only kept the one bottle, well he had the morphine too, but he didn't used hadn't in some time. He needed them but only as long as he couldn't stand the pain. He wasn't an addict despite what they tended to say and think. His time in detox had proven that, or at least he had thought it would, but apparently it hadn't not for all of them. No not for any of them.

**It's over now, I'm cold, alone  
I'm just a person on my own  
Nothing means a thing to me  
(Nothing means a thing to me)**

This was why he didn't care because they didn't. If they didn't he had no reason too, but the problem was somewhere deep down he did care, at least some. As he tossed the last one from the bottle down and settled on his couch to watch the television his mind drifted as it always did and his theme for the day came back again. How couldn't they believe him? They saw people day in and day out with so many things wrong and they couldn't believe him about his problem? Cameron tried to mother him as always and Cuddy tried to demand things as ever. Chase while he could tell he thought it he didn't make it quite as obvious, not after that incident. Foremen of them all actually had a clue he thought. He had been one of the smarter ones of his little duckys when it came to that kind of thing. He didn't approve either, but at least he thought he mind somewhat understand it.

**It's not a habit, it's cool, I feel alive  
If you don't have it you're on the other side  
I'm not an addict (maybe that's a lie)**

He didn't know when he feel asleep, but he woke up in pain from the way he had slept. The clock said it was time to be at work, but as normal he couldn't seem to care about that. He wanted a hot shower and to give the pills some time to kick in while the water tried to help till then.

A shower, some clean clothes, and a trip on a bike later his leg still ached and it was getting worse not better. He tossed down more pills trying to make the pain ease as he made his way into the hospital his displeasure quite clear on his face. He bumped into a couple people but hardly noticed as his limp was worse then usual and he couldn't help but wonder if he was suddenly getting a resistance to the vicodin. It had taken more pills recently, or more of them more often one or the other to keep the pain at bay.

**Free me, leave me  
Watch me as I'm going down  
Free me, see me  
Look at me, I'm falling and I'm falling.**

Really he just wanted it to stop again. Like before it had come or like just after he had been shot. He knew his temper had been shorter then normal recently, but he couldn't find it in him to care. Ok so he was a selfish bastard, but he never claimed to be anything else, he didn't like the pain and he wanted it to stop not get worse. If they could just see it from his side they would see that he did need them, the pills that is, and that it wasn't just a /need/ it was to help the pain. They wouldn't see it his way though.

**It is not a habit, it is cool I feel alive I feel...  
It is not a habit, it is cool I feel alive**

It turned into another long day by the time he was watching the television again. Not just long though painful too. By the time he had gotten back here he had hardly been able to walk. He was already dreading tomorrow if it was going to be another day like today. The problem was he knew it was. They had a case that they were working on and as much as he loved people who could understand what he was going though with these problems that didn't seem to have an answer he knew how much he wanted his to have an answer so all he wanted was some sleep and to find that answer.

**It's not a habit, it's cool, I feel alive  
If you don't have it you're on the other side  
I'm not an addict (maybe that's a lie)  
I'm not an addict...**

He hadn't been here more then a couple hours and he couldn't walk. It had been a struggle to get to work on his bike and his pills were doing nothing for it. If he even twitched his leg pain shot up it and his spine. So now he was sitting in his chair in his office while the others were off doing tests. If he hadn't been hurting he would have seen the looks on their face, the guilty ones that would have told him they knew something that he didn't. He hadn't though he was trying to push it down enough to think.

They were guilty though Cuddy had told them what she was doing and they had agreed. He needed help they all three knew it. Or at least they all three had until this morning. He had hardly said a snarky thing to them. He hadn't moved from his chair for an hour now. He was pale, not a lack of sun pale, a pale that came with extreme pain or shock. Like a pain that one would get walking on a broken leg or something like that, but his wasn't broken, no not broken but it was causing enough pain for one. For the first time they actually thought that maybe he really did need it when they came back with the tests and he still hadn't moved not even when it was lunch time and he was usually down stealing Wilson's lunch around now. It was Cameron who told Cuddy, but Cuddy just said he needed time he was just going though withdraws.

It was Wilson himself who had to take House back to his place that night. He couldn't have staid on his bike even though he wanted to, but he had managed to make it out to the other man's car without more help the his cane. It was sheer willpower that helped him do it, but he managed it. At his place though he couldn't make it up the steeps and he was forced to accept Wilson's help not just up them but into his apartment and room.

He hated to see him like this, but he didn't know what he could do to help. He had his pills and much as he hated to see him take them he knew he needed them. He just refused to meet he gaze when he took them it was his protest to it. Once he was sure House was fine he left his for his own apartment.

The next day no one heard from House, late was one thing but he was never just /not/ there. When noon rolled around the day after and no one had heard a thing it was Cameron who went to find him, but she got nothing when she knocked on his door. Inside she found House in bed where Wilson had left him, except for the bruise on his side that was covered by his shirt. All her attempts to get him to even move failed and ended in her being told rather impolitely to be gone.

Later in the night Wilson was back again. He had walked in on a conversation that explained it all. House's mood getting steadily worse lately. Him seeming to rely more on his cane by the day. Oh and of course being unable to walk as he had. He might not like it, but for the first time he truly did believe that he needed them. He might have told himself that he knew, but this was proof. As much as he hated it this was proof. He could see the look in House's eyes when he handed him the bottle though. "Cuddy has been helping you with your addiction." Was all he offered for an explanation.

He took the bottle. After all what else could he do? Wilson was standing here offering them too him. It took him a moment to get them open and a couple down, took nearly an hour before he could even start to think after that. It only took Wilson about ten minutes to explain what was and had been wrong though. He didn't know who to be more angry with in truth, his team or his boss. It was late by then though and Wilson was got up to leave, but he couldn't quite let him. "I'm sure there is a movie on to watch, and you owe me some food."

Wilson resisted the urge to roll his eyes at House's way of saying he could stay. He did though and for the first time ever House was on time to work the next day thanks to it. He didn't say a thing to anyone about knowing about what had been happening to House and considering the looks he was getting he hadn't either, they still thought he was taking the sugar pills and had made some miraculous recovery.

He said nothing and for once didn't even drop hints that he knew. No he let them sweat and wonder. It wasn't until the day was nearly over the Cuddy called him into her office and told him what Wilson had the day before. "Oh really well then I'm glad at least someone in this hospital knows what to do for pain." He retorted before walking out of her office despite her calling for him to come back and explain.

He got a ride from Wilson again that night. Not just because he had to but because he thought Wilson actually understood now. He wasn't an addict he needed them for the pain. He didn't look away now when he took them. He could still see that it hurt him, but maybe it wasn't the pills but what they meant that hurt now. He could hope.

It was lunch the next day before one of them finally said anything and it was Cameron, but he brushed her off for the most part. They each tried to apologize, but none of them sounded like the meant it. Well no Foremen did and he was forgiven, he had always thought he was smart. He didn't know if the others would ever understand, didn't care not really, but maybe there was hope. If Foremen could understand then maybe they could too. If only Wilson had understood he wouldn't have put it past them all to never understand. He had known the other man for years and he understood him better then anyone, Foremen hadn't so maybe there was hope for them too.

Maybe…


End file.
